The former Tory Minister writes exclusively for the Daily Express
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Fashions changed. The mini was followed by the maxi which in turn was followed by the midi but the monarch’s hemline was as predictable as her bright, block colours with matching hats.
Music changed from pop to punk to heavy metal to rap but the notes of God Save The Queen never altered. Elizabeth’s subjects aspired to central heating and fitted carpets but for The Queen herself, a two-bar electric heater was still doing the job in her 90s.
She was just there, a reassuring presence in Covid, an amusing one at the Olympics, a tragic one when the Duke died, always dignified, always controlled, ever mindful of her duty.
She was still doing red boxes at 96 when I was glad to see the back of them at 50.
I met her on several occasions, always briefly but also always memorably. Once I was on crutches with a surgical boot, having broken my foot. Everyone else had come up with the usual banalities such as “how awful” or “bad luck” but Her Maj had the mot juste: “how tiresome” and that is exactly what it was.
Above all, The Queen was a force for unity. In the Commonwealth, in the United Kingdom, across her realm and through the world.
If the four countries showed their often artificial differences during Covid then England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland have come together in mourning and in the transition to a new reign.
The cry of “God save the King” has gone up throughout all of them. Significantly one of the most eloquent tributes came from President Macron.
She suffered as we do: the occasional mild illness, family divisions, disappointments, bereavement.
And she rejoiced as we do in grandchildren and great-grandchildren, the beauty of the countryside, special anniversaries.
The world mourns the passing of a great era, of the regular breaking of historical records, of jubilees and pageantry and a reign which ran from post-war stringency to the digital age. May she rest in peace.
Sorry, but I am not joining in all the mawkish rot about a “reconciliation” between William and Harry.
Unless Harry has ditched his memoirs and Meghan her whingeing podcasts, then a mere walkabout together, however popular, in cold reality means nothing.
Meghan and Harry brought the Royal Family nothing but misery once they settled in California and it beggars belief that at a time of enormous personal grief, Meghan thought that she might be welcome among her victims at Balmoral.
The fact that Kate was not going was irrelevant. Even had she been there, Meghan would have had no right at all and I think a less self-absorbed person would have recognised that.
I very much hope that eventually there will be a genuinely lasting burying of the hatchet but if the couple continues to make their accusatory pronouncements, then nobody can blame the King or William because both have tried hard in the face of much provocation.
Of course, it will not happen but how I should like to see The Queen’s handbag on her coffin!
It was as constant and endearing as she herself, never changing position, never metamorphosing into a shoulder bag or clutch, never growing or shrinking.
If you showed people a picture of her Launer handbag, above, and of the orb and sceptre and asked which one represented the Queen, many would probably choose the handbag!
Instead, some emblem of state will lie atop and that is quite right. And very boring. And completely without a marmalade sandwich.
Britain has a reputation for pomp and pageantry unequalled throughout the world so we must be careful that our requests to visiting heads of state to avoid private jets and refrain from being driven up to the Abbey in their official cars do not make us a laughing stock.
I know His Majesty worries about the environment but Joe Biden is not gonna catch the bus. The usual courtesies are important and in these circumstances compelling.
A head of state expects to be treated as just that. After all, when was the late Queen asked to get on her bike on a state visit?
The logistics are perfectly manageable and have been managed before. They must be managed again with quiet British efficiency.
At the age of five I sat on my bed while my older brother (we were pre-war and post-war or, as he was wont to say, quality and utility) taught me the words of God Save The Queen.
I was a bit confused because I had always heard about a king. Now 70 years later I am confused in the reverse direction.
So were some of the crowds who sang “God save the King” but then asked God to “send her victorious”!
Queen Elizabeth and Queen Mary were consorts but were known just as Queen Elizabeth and Queen Mary except in very formal circumstances.
So it is right that we should now say simply “Queen Camilla” when referring to the wife of Charles III without the clumsiness of iterating “consort” every time.
It might irritate all the diehard Diana worshippers but it certainly makes life much easier.
My generation will always remember what we were doing when we learned of the assassination of President Kennedy and today’s generation will almost certainly remember where they were when they heard that The Queen had died.
It is one of those moments which will never entirely leave us, even if we too live till 96.
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